In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

Grandpa Chen clenched his fist and gave Zhang Yong a slight nod.

The old man coughed twice, then turned around with a much steadyer gait, slowly making his way down the stairs while holding onto the railing.

Zhang Yong stood at the door, his gaze passing over Grandpa Chen's hunched back and landing on the person behind him.

Lin Xuechang.

The deputy editor-in-chief of the October magazine, the one who personally went to Jinsong Community to invite him to the magazine.

Today he was wearing a gray-blue polyester short-sleeved shirt, his belt was very tight, his hair was neatly combed, and if you got close, you could smell a faint... perfume on him.

He stood in the hallway, carrying a briefcase and smiling, looking out of place with his surroundings.

Half a step behind him, another person climbed up.

Liu Jianguo.

Liu Jianguo looked unwell.

It's not the kind of ugly anger, but the kind of bitter look that's hard to express yet too afraid to refuse.

His eyes kept scanning Zhang Yong's face, his eyebrows were furrowed, and his right hand was gripping the seam of his pants, his fingers tightening and loosening.

To wink or give a knowing look.

Zhang Yong understood.

Liu Jianguo winked at him, meaning something like, "I didn't want to come either, but I had no choice."

Zhang Yong had a plan in mind.

He turned half his body to the side, opening the door a crack.

Behind the door, the man in the jacket was still lying face down in the living room, his face pressed against the dining table. Zhang Defa stood to the side, holding a wrench and pressing down on his head. He looked at the two uninvited guests outside the door with a somewhat bewildered expression.

Li Guilan was startled and picked up a broom, unsure whether she should sweep the living room.

Lin Xuechang walked to the door and glanced inside.

The living room was a mess, and a man dressed as a thug was lying on the floor.

He actually smiled, a smile that was both unsurprising and slightly mocking.

"From Baoding?"

Lin Xuechang's tone was very light, even carrying a hint of teasing.

"That's so uncivilized."

Zhang Yong stared at him for two seconds.

This statement contains a lot of information.

Baoding.

Lin Xuechang knows a lot; his visit today is no coincidence.

Zhang Yong ignored the conversation, opened the door, and stepped aside.

"Editor-in-Chief Lin, please come in."

"Editor Liu, please come in too."

Liu Jianguo sighed, lowered his head, and followed Lin Xuechang through the door.

Zhang Defa and Li Guilan remained in the same position, seemingly unsure how to handle the situation.

"Dad, Mom, this is Deputy Editor-in-Chief Lin and Editor Liu from the October magazine." Zhang Yong's voice was flat. "They're not outsiders."

Zhang De paused for a moment, then lowered the wrench slightly.

Lin Xuechang glanced around the room, walked straight to the only stool still standing, flicked the dust off the stool with the back of his hand, and sat down.

He placed his briefcase on his lap, unbuttoned it, and pulled out a document.

Zhang Yong recognized him at a glance.

That was the exclusive commissioned article agreement he signed with Zhou Deqing at the magazine.

It's a photocopy, but the red stamp and his signature are clearly visible.

Lin Xuechang laid the agreement flat on the coffee table, pressed his finger on it, and looked up at Zhang Yong.

His face changed to a businesslike smile.

Comrade Zhang Yong.

His tone changed; he deliberately pronounced each word clearly, as if he were reading a document.

"I'm here today not for personal matters, but for business."

Zhang Yong pulled himself up onto a stool and sat down opposite him.

"Editor-in-Chief Lin, please go ahead."

Lin Xuechang slowly lit a cigarette, then pointed to a clause in the agreement with his index finger.

"When you signed this agreement, Article 3 clearly stated that during the period of commissioned contribution, the author shall not submit articles to similar publications in the same city under any pseudonym or pseudonym. Violators shall pay the magazine a penalty of two thousand yuan and terminate all subsequent cooperation."

He paused for a moment, then looked up.

"Therefore, Zhang Wengong is not suitable."

When he uttered those words, there was a certainty of certainty in them.

Zhang Yong's expression remained unchanged.

Lin Xuechang continued, "The magazine has confirmed that 'Zhang Wengong' is you. Although the names of the articles in the 'Whispers of Machinery' series published in the Workers' Life Weekly are different, the author is the same person."

He took a picture of the agreement.

"According to this exclusive contract, you need to pay the magazine a penalty of two thousand yuan. At the same time, all subsequent contributions will be terminated."

"You know what 'exclusive' means, right?"

Two thousand yuan.

Two thousand yuan in 1990 was more than half a year's salary for Zhang Defa.

Li Guilan turned pale at the kitchen doorway, her fingers digging into the paint on the door frame.

Zhang Defa raised his wrench again.

Zhang Yong reached out and pressed down, signaling his father not to move.

He looked at Lin Xuechang, gently took the document, and flipped through it a couple of times.

"Editor-in-Chief Lin, please don't rush. Let me ask you something first."

"you say."

"How did you come to the conclusion that Zhang Wengong and Zhang Yong are the same person?"

Lin Xuechang's lips curled up slightly.

There was no direct answer.

He tapped his index finger lightly on the cover of the agreement a few times.

"Some things you can fool others with, but trying to fool us editors who've been doing this for over a decade is simply unrealistic."

"Furthermore, I did use some irregular methods to obtain the proof. As for what those methods were, you can figure it out yourself."

He exhaled a puff of smoke and his gaze fell on Zhang Yong's face.

"Alas, if you don't want others to know, then don't do it in the first place—this isn't my saying, it's what our ancestors said."

Zhang Yong did not respond to that.

He was already pushing it in his mind.

Lin Xuechang said the methods were irregular, so the information wasn't obtained through public channels.

Tan Xingguo absolutely refused to reveal anything from the Workers' Life Weekly, and Zhao Huaijin and Fang Qiming were even less likely to.

That leaves only one possibility.

Zhang Yong's gaze subtly shifted to Liu Jianguo.

Liu Jianguo was standing to the side of the sofa, not sitting down, his hands alternately rubbing the seams of his trousers. Sensing Zhang Yong's gaze, he suddenly stood up straight.

Zhang Yong looked away.

It wasn't Liu Jianguo either.

If it were him, he wouldn't have bothered to give me that look today.

That means Lin Xuechang obtained it through other channels, or he had someone do handwriting analysis on the original document.

Chen Ping said at the library that day, "I naturally have my own methods."

The clues in Zhang Yong's mind came together, but he didn't show anything on his face.

He simply nodded and said four words: "Okay, got it."

Then he waited.

really.

Lin Xuechang cleared his throat and pulled another piece of paper from his briefcase.

"but--"

His tone softened considerably, even becoming somewhat sincere.

"The magazine doesn't want to push things too far. After all, you're an author personally signed by Editor-in-Chief Zhou, and we've always recognized your talent."

He pushed the paper over.

"So this time, I brought a perfect solution."

"The book you're writing, 'The Kingdom on Wheels,' is quite interesting."

......